Wanna Bet? - Spideypool
by ThanksIllPass
Summary: Peter loses a bet and has to wear lace panties under the suit for one night. It doesn't work out as planned. Pre-slash.


Man, they _itched_ like a motherhugger. Peter couldn't understand how Deadpool could wear them and_enjoy_ it. But a lost bet was a lost bet, so one night of crime fighting in lace panties it was. Peter was a man of honor. But, damn, the thing felt like it was going to scratch its way through his ass to his very soul and _eat_ it. This couldn't be normal. _No_ living person could be willing to endure _that_ just to feel pretty.

"So how are you hanging?" Wade's voice sounded in Peter's earpiece. That's right. Peter got an earpiece because Wade wanted live commentary. "Ha. Hanging. Hold on, hold on, let me just wipe tears from my eyes."

Peter rolled his eyes and winced when he took a swing and the panties dug painfully into his skin. "Did you dip them in itching powder or something?" he grunted.

"How dare you?" Wade shrieked. "I only wore them for a week before giving them to you. Unwashed."

"Very funny. I'm serious, is this supposed to be normal?"

"Is _what_ supposed to be normal exactly?" Wade asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

"The _agony_, Wade, focus! My ass is on fire!"

"Damn right it is. Spidey-booty is _fly_! No, wait, it doesn't sound right, not with centuries of carefully cultivated animosity between spiders and flies. Trying to be nice and hip at the same time never worked for me. Do people still say hip?"

Peter groaned and hoped it didn't come out more like a helpless moan of helplessness. He landed on the rooftop of the Criminals' Favorite Bank (because New York criminals were nothing if predictable) and considered sitting down for a moment before realizing how potentially harmful that might be. He grabbed his head in both hands and raked his fingers over his skull. Somehow, it seemed like a much better idea than scratching his butt.

"Wade. Concentrate. They are _killing_ me. They are digging into my skin and it's _painful_. I actually think they scratched all the skin of my butt. And it kinda _burns_. Is this normal?"

Wade clicked his tongue and sighed. "Well, it's not. I mean. It is, but it's not? Look. As much time as I spend worshipping your ass from afar – for strictly aesthetic reasons, may I add, I have an artistic soul – I might have slightly miscalculated and got them in a size too small? That would explain the digging-into-your-skin problem. Also, I bought them online – I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not really a face-to-face shopping kinda guy, and Victoria's Secret clerks are particularly sensitive and fragile – so I didn't really _touch_ them and I'm not sure how soft the lace was, but I'm assuming _not at all_ – those lying bastards are gonna pay – hence the scratch? And as for the burn, you could be allergic to some detergent or lace itself?"

"You can be allergic to lace?!" Peter shouted in shock.

"You can be allergic to everything."

"Don't patronize me!" Peter snapped. He stared to feel like the panties were digging into his brain, not this ass. "I know you can be allergic to anything. I'm _smart_, okay? I just never, not once in my life, concerned myself with freaking lace, of all things."

"Are you telling me, with all the girlfriends you've had, you've never concerned yourself with lace? Not even with Black Cat? Wow, your sex life must have been _so_ boring. No wonder-"

"You _don't_ want to finish that sentence, and, trust me, you _don't_ want to talk about our respective sex lives, or lack of thereof, for that matter, because _I_ at least have some memories to keep me warm at night," Peter seethed, feeling his cheeks coloring in anger mixed with embarrassment.

Wade snorted. Uh-oh. Peter could practically feel Wade smiling teasingly. "So, you wanna back up and go home crying like a sissy you are, or are you man enough to wear women lingerie?"

"Oh, I'm man enough," Peter gritted through his teeth. "I'm also man enough to beat the crap out of you when I next see you."

"That's the spirit, baby boy!" Wade laughed. "Let's hope you won't have too much crime fighting to do tonight, eh?"

"Let's just hope my ass doesn't fall off…" Peter whined. "I like my butt the way it is, thank you very much."

"Ditto. Want me to drop by in the morning and kiss it better? Because I would _love_ to do that. I dreamt about it once. Twice. Seven times. This month only."

Peter's brain halted for a second, because as much as Wade loved teasing Peter with distasteful flirting and innuendos, _that_ – was new. There was something different in Wade's tone of voice; it sounded way too distant, as if Wade wasn't even talking to him. Still, Peter might have just been hearing things.

"Did I say that out loud?" Wade stammered, panic audible in his voice. Or maybe Peter wasn't hearing things after all. "Never mind, I'm leaving the country. I hear South Pole is lovely this time of year. And the penguins! Man, I love penguins! Gotta go now, bye! Let's not meet again!"

"Wade!"

As soon as the silence settled in his earpiece, the alarm in the bank went off. Great.

Peter was lucky the guys robbing the bank were complete idiots. And he meant complete, absolute, we're-not-even-gonna-wear-masks-or-bring-guns kind of idiots. Otherwise, taking care of them while wearing an abusive lingerie _and_ thinking about Deadpool taking it off his ass _with his teeth_, could have been problematic. What? Peter was a young healthy man going through a particularly long dry spell. _Of course_ he would entertain the idea of fooling around with an agile mountain of rock hard muscle that was Wade Wilson once it had been planted in his head. _And_ it might have crossed his mind once or twice in the past few months. Or ten times. What?! He was so horny he would probably let Venom sex him up. If he was into the whole being eaten alive thing, that is. Which he wasn't, for the record. He'd much prefer letting Wade into his pants.

He kind of did find Wade attractive. And not just because he was desperate, and he kind of was, but generally. Tall, strong, hard, sculpted, so what if he wasn't exactly a GQ model material? True, all of Peter's previous romantic interest happened to be smoking hot _and_ physically flawless in every way, but he would call it a life's greatest irony rather than a result of his own too high standards. Wade would call it objectification of women in comic book industry, not that it made much more sense. Nothing about Wade made much sense.

They'd been hanging out for almost six months now and in that time Wade had never expressed any interest in Peter. Sure, he spewed poetics about his ass all the time, but even Peter could tell it was more teasing than anything, and yes, he flirted as naturally as he breathed, but not exclusively with Peter. Peter had never got the impression that Wade was _into_ him. Peter got the impression that Wade was into Sue Storm and She-Hulk, yes; that he was into Thor and Cap, definitely. But never _Peter_. Peter's appeal was limited to being a perfect target for taunts and having equally unique tastes in bets.

After all, it was a bet that brought them where they were at the moment. Peter, tortured by laced panties he was probably allergic to, unable to stop thinking about Wade, and Wade, packing his stuff in a hurry, unaware of being watched by Peter. A stupid bet, like hundreds of others they made over the months, about who will get more irritated remarks from the Avengers – Peter during a full-time mission, or Wade during one conversation. Wade won; Avengers really didn't like Deadpool even more than they thought of Peter as a complete spazz. If Peter had won, Wade would have had to take cooking lessons from Aunt May, which Peter thought would be hilarious and beneficial with time. But Peter had lost, and he had to fight crime wearing panties under his costume, which Wade thought would be fabulous and sexy. It wasn't.

But something came out of this, didn't it? Something that could be good. Something that could get Peter laid. What? Wade was the romantic one of the duo. Peter's priorities were in _proper order_.

"I can't believe you're actually running away," Peter sighed. "Also, this place _stinks_."

Wade jumped and turned around, a gun in his hand pointed straight at Peter's face. "Holy president of unicorn magic land, Peter! I could have blown your face off! Worse, I could have had a heart attack! What if I died?"

"Really?" Peter deadpanned.

"Yeah, okay, not really. But still! Where are your manners? Your code of honor? Who sneaks up on people like that?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, okay, you're right. Never mind that. And I'm not running away, I told you – I'm going to save penguins."

Peter sighed and hopped off the windowsill onto the floor. Wade took a step back and fixed his eyes on the floor.

"_Really_?" Peter snapped in disbelief. "Cut it out. I'm not gonna strangle you, for Christ's sake. I'm here for my booty kissing-better."

"It's not a real word," Wade mumbled defensively, still avoiding Peter's eyes.

"Yo momma isn't a real word. Stop fooling around, Wade. Or rather, _start_ fooling around. Heh. Nailed it. Well, not yet, but-"

"What the fuck, Peter?" Wade shouted, finally looking at Peter, even if anger filled his eyes. "Are you_trying_ to piss me off?"

"Actually, I am," Peter said with a small smile. "At least you looked at me. Hi."

Wade couldn't hold back the amused huff that escaped him. He cleared his throat and straightened his back, his eyes not leaving Peter's. "So. What now."

"I would like to get to the sex part, but we can talk about it if you want? There's really nothing to talk about, though. After six months, there is literally nothing you can throw at me at this point that would shock me or make me give up on you. I _know_ you and I know what I'm getting into. So it's simple, really. I like you, you like me, I'm wearing sexy lingerie, we should have sex now."

Wade barked out a laugh. "What sex? You wouldn't even be able to _kiss_ me."

"Wanna bet?" Peter challenged, smiling teasingly.

Wade's eyes narrowed curiously. Too easy. These words, that ended most of their bickering as well as more serious conversations, always worked like a charm. They _loved_ challenging each other. That's what they _did_.

"What do I get when I win?" Wade asked finally.

"If. And you can do anything you want, I won't stop you. You can leave, you can stay and we can pretend nothing happened, whatever you want. Just, no killing me. Because I know that thought has crossed your mind."

Wade hummed. He wasn't even going to deny that he'd thought about killing Peter. What a douche. "Not that I think there is even a slight possibility of you winning, but. What do you get if you win?"

"When. Well, for starters, I get to keep kissing you. Then you take these damn panties off me. With your teeth. Teeth are essential."

Wade closed his eyes and shuddered, which made Peter smirk smugly. His body was already thrumming with anticipation; it had been so long, he felt like he was about to jump out of his skin. The panties were a pain, literally, and the room smelled foul, but he couldn't care less. He wanted Wade. He wanted his hands on him, his mouth, his whole ragged, scarred skin. And he knew Wade wanted it too. What he didn't know was, what was the hold up.

"Well, are you man enough to take the bet?" he teased.

Wade didn't say anything. He took off his mask and looked defiantly at Peter. Nervousness looked good on him. It was enticing. Made Peter think of unspeakable things, things to be saved for later. He smiled and reached out his hand to stroke Wade's cheek. The way Wade leaned into the touch seemed almost involuntary. His skin was hot and damp, smooth and uneven at the same time. Felt weird, but good weird.

Peter didn't close his eyes when he leaned in to kiss Wade. He wanted him to understand that Peter would be with _him_, not someone else, hidden under his closed eyelids. He wasn't naïve, he knew Wade would doubt him, probably 'til the very end. He knew it wouldn't be easy – nothing involving Wade was. He knew he'd have to try harder than ever, but he also had a feeling it would be worth it. They could be good together. They _had been_ good together. Peter would prove it to Wade. He wouldn't close his eyes.

But when Wade's mouth opened under his, and Wade moaned softly, letting his eyelids fall shut, keeping his open was the least of Peter's concerns. After all, he had his priorities in proper order.


End file.
